


Grapple

by kitestringer



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: sga_flashfic, Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-25
Updated: 2010-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 03:39:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitestringer/pseuds/kitestringer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronon and Teyla aren't the only ones in a fighting mood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grapple

**Author's Note:**

> A missing scene from episode 2.10 ("The Lost Boys"), with some spoilers for that episode. Thanks to [](http://maverick4oz.livejournal.com/profile)[**maverick4oz**](http://maverick4oz.livejournal.com/) and [](http://rustler.livejournal.com/profile)[**rustler**](http://rustler.livejournal.com/), for comments, suggestions, and encouragement.
> 
> Originally posted in October of 2005 for the SGA Flashfic Search and Seizure Challenge.

"I'm hungry."

Rodney rolled his eyes and glanced up from what passed for a computer in Jace's "lab." Ronon was giving him a look that, on anyone else, would almost certainly be interpreted as a prelude to intercourse. On Ronon, Rodney was reasonably sure it meant simply that he was awake and not feeling particularly bloodthirsty. "Really."

"Yeah."

"Well I don't know what you expect me to do about it."

Ronon took one step closer. "You have food. You always have food."

"What? There's plenty of food here! Look around. Raid the fridge. I'm busy."

"I want food without the enzyme."

"Join the _club._ Now if you don't mind..." Rodney turned back to the downward stream of Wraith characters, which were moving just slightly too fast for him to make sense of. He stared blankly at them for a few seconds, as Ronon placed two hands on the table and leaned into Rodney's personal space.

"You always have food," Ronon repeated. His breath smelled strange and sweet, just like Ford's. Just like his own now, he supposed. Rodney exhaled harshly into his cupped hands, which didn't really tell him anything.

He leaned away as Ronon moved closer. "Yes, well. I have one PowerBar on me, which I imagine someone like you would metabolize in approximately five seconds, so it will do me far more good than it would do you."

"I don't believe you."

"_Excuse_ me?"

Ronon shoved his hand into Rodney's jacket, groping for the inside pocket. Before his conscious mind could catch up, Rodney's fist was connecting with Ronon's jaw. He watched in equal parts horror and euphoria as Ronon stood up straight again, wiping a tiny trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth with one hand and holding a cookies-and-cream PowerBar in the other. A broad smile slowly lit his face.

Rodney almost said he was sorry before he realized that, no, he wasn't, nor did he even want to pretend that he was. Instead, he stood, his right fist already sore but still clenched. The fact that his chin was roughly at the level of Ronon's shoulders didn't bother him nearly as much as it should have. "Give it back."

Ronon's smile grew. He held the PowerBar out of Rodney's reach, tore the wrapper open, and took a large and enthusiastic bite. "Make me," he said.

Something searing and alien flared inside Rodney. "Listen, I've had just about enough of being pushed around by the likes of you, _Conan._" He took a swipe at the PowerBar, but Ronon held it high over his head and continued to chew happily.

"Who's Conan?"

"A musclebound Earth barbarian who's somehow become a leader among Colonel Sheppard's people." Rodney jumped into the air and tried again, this time succeeding in knocking the PowerBar out of Ronon's hand and across the room. "Ha!"

They both dove for it. Rodney landed closer, the PowerBar just inches from his extended hand. Ronon hooked an arm around Rodney's waist and tossed him aside as if he weighed nothing, but it seemed that with every moment of abuse Rodney endured, a strange energy welling from nowhere made him less content to stand for more. Again he dove, this time straight for Ronon as he scrambled for the PowerBar. He landed on him with a loud "oof." Ronon threw an elbow back into Rodney's ribs, and it barely hurt at all. When Ronon rolled onto his back, PowerBar clutched in one fist, Rodney responded with a hard punch to Ronon's stomach, which was disturbingly similar to what he imagined punching a wall might feel like.

"Do you have any fat _on_ you, you freak of nature?" Rodney paused for a moment, confused, until he realized that the strange sound he was hearing was that of his own breathless laughter. Ronon's only answer was a loud smacking sound, as he took another bite.

Rodney was again in mid-lunge when he felt himself being lifted from behind. He turned around swinging, and Ford caught his fist easily in one hand.

"Break it up, you two." Ford's mouth was curved into a hint of a smile, his voice mock stern. "I don't think Sheppard would be too happy to come back here and find out you killed each other."

"He took my PowerBar! Right out of my jacket!"

Ford's eyebrows furrowed as he turned to Ronon, and, for a moment, he looked almost like the man Rodney used to know. "Give it here," he said, nodding curtly in Ronon's direction.

Ronon bared his teeth, ready to take another bite.

"Hey. I mean it. Don't you know Dr. McKay's hypoglycemic? What's the matter with you?"

Ronon looked from Ford to Rodney and back to Ford again, then tossed Rodney the PowerBar. "This is between me and McKay," he said, getting to his feet. He stepped between them, providing Rodney with a face full of dreads and Ford with what Rodney imagined was a look he wouldn't ever want to be on the receiving end of. "He knew he was getting it back."

Rodney cleared his throat. "Of course I did. Not that your concern isn't...well, very nearly verging on _touching,_ Ford."

"Whatever." Ford seemed distracted; he didn't look at either one of them as he turned to leave the room. "Now play nice. You want to pick on someone, Ronon, you come spar with me."

"I was holding my own, thank you very much," Rodney called out after him, but he didn't think Ford heard, and he was no longer sure he even believed it himself. Maybe his ribs really did hurt, just a little.

"What is this stuff _doing_ to us?" Rodney held his hand up and flexed his fingers. Yeah, they hurt, too.

"I don't know. I didn't think it was doing anything. Now I'm not so sure."

"Uh, _yeah,_" Rodney said. He had just punched a teammate over a PowerBar. Twice. He looked at the half of it that was left, now pulled and twisted out of shape, then reached into his other inside pocket. "Here," he said, and handed it to Ronon. "Chocolate. It's a better flavor, anyway."

Ronon raised his eyebrows but accepted it wordlessly.

"Yes, yes, I forgot I had it, okay?"

"Okay." Ronon sat down on the floor and settled back against the cave wall, peeled back the wrapper, and took a bite. Looking up at Rodney, he nodded and made a happy, appreciative noise.

"Note to self: giant, snarling bully mollified by chocolate PowerBar," Rodney muttered under his breath. "I suppose that might come in handy again someday." Maybe someday soon, he thought. He had a feeling things were going to get much, much worse before they got better. _If_ they got better.

Rodney sank back into the chair, and Ronon sat eating and watching him silently as he returned to his work. Wraith characters scuttled down and down the screen, no slower or more comprehensible than they had been. Rodney was already having trouble concentrating—the enzyme was like fingers tugging at his sleeve, demanding attention, motion, action—but Ronon's solid form at the periphery of his vision anchored him in place and helped to keep him still.


End file.
